by Mj Fields
I push her back against the shower wall, and slowly pull out, and push back in even more slowly. Her pleasure-filled coos are almost as heart warming to me as when the words ‘I love you’ spill from them.
“Ah. She loves me.” I push inside and pull out, thinking: Luciana loves me. I thrust in and out, again and again.
“Luciana, I love you,” I say, as my cock twitches inside her and fills her with my cum.
Finally, finally.
Together
We lay in bed for countless hours, just touching, exploring, loving one another. I find myself smiling—really smiling, the kind you feel everywhere. I am happy, for real, for the first time in as long as I can remember.
Luciana makes me truly happy.
I order room service, because both of us are starving. We sit at the suite’s dining table and feed each other, grapes, olives, strawberries, cheese. I have never felt more loved, adored, or wanted. We are both exhausted. Yet we cannot stop touching each other.
I lift her up and carry her to our bed. Our bed. I want it to be ours for longer than a weekend. I want to feel this way forever.
“Let’s never leave here.” I say, as I slide in next to her.
She laughs and rolls to her side, resting her knee across my legs. I reach down, cup her ass and pull her tighter to me as my finger rubs up and down the crack of her ass. When I stop and apply a little pressure to her hole, she stops laughing. A look of surprise crosses her face.
It makes me laugh, that after all these hours entwined in each others arms, bodies, she would deny me anything. I know she won’t deny me forever. So I press harder.
She shakes her head and reaches behind her, grabbing my hand. “No.”
“Did you just tell me ‘no’?” I say, in bogus shock.
“I don’t think I’m into...that.”
“No shocker action?” I laugh. By her reaction, I know she doesn’t have a clue what I am talking about. I free my hand and grab her again. I reach down and roughly shove two fingers inside her, “Two in the pink, and one in the—”
“Don’t you dare!” She squirms away.
I allow it. I like her to think she has a little power in the bedroom, although we both know she doesn’t.
“Someday, you’ll beg for it.” I swat her round little ass as she crosses the bed.
She looks back at me and her cheeks are flush again. Desire quickly turns to shame. I try to figure out why two such opposite emotions would ever coincide. But I can’t, and the thought soon passes because I am instantly hard and desperate to bury myself inside her again.
I spring up and capture her hips in my hands, dragging her back across the bed. She is on all fours and I’m on my knees behind her. I rub her pussy until she is wetter than ever.
“I love how wet you are for me, Luciana. I love that your desire for me is as uncontrollable as mine is for you.”
“Sabato....” She moans my name as I rub my cock against her slick pussy. “I Love—”
“I know.” I say, as I thrust into her over and over.
I can’t stop. I can’t stop loving her this way, and I never want to. I want to come, but I want to hear my name, feel the quiver, the contractions of her orgasm. I am possessed by her, for her, in her.
I hold her hips in my hands, watching my cock rock into her until her energy is spent and her head falls limp on the bed. I watch her jolt forward every time I push in, and hold her hips tight each time she breathes out, as I pull back.
Finally, I come. I come so hard I see stars. So hard that my convulsing inside her forces her to come again, writhing helplessly beneath me.
We lay winded and worn, and we fall asleep just like that.
***
“Get up!” I jump at his voice and try to focus my eyes to the light now flooding our darkened retreat. “Get up now!”
“Father?” I rub my eyes for better focus. I know it’s him, he’s come to ruin this moment for me. Just like he’s done with every other moment in my life.
I stare up at him as his eyes nearly penetrate Luciana’s naked form and cover her immediately.
“Get out,” I tell him, as a fierce protectiveness ravages me.
“You dare speak to me that—”
“You dare break into my room and invade my privacy!” I jump out of bed, not caring that I’m naked.
“My money affords this lifestyle for you,” he scoffs. “Privacy means nothing.”
“You can take your money and shove it up your ass!”
“Sabato,” the quiver in Luciana’s voice makes me stop and turn to her. “Please.”
“Please, what?” I have no idea why she looks so afraid. “Get him out of here?”
“He’s...your father.” The last word is a whisper, and I know it’s not what she means.
“Ah, so you’ve finally found one who knows the meaning of respect.” My father laughs malevolently.
“You never earned my respect!” I look back at my Luciana, who now—oddly—seems to be on his side. “He has not earned my respect!”
“He’s your father,” she whispers again.
“He’s never been anyone’s father, least of all mine!” My emotions are out of control, and I can’t stop them, even if I wanted to.
“I might as well be an orphan, since I only ever had the one parent who gave a shit!”
“He lost her too, Sabato.” Luciana speaks in a nervous whisper, that doesn’t even sound like her voice.
But I don’t have time to figure out why she’s acting so strangely. At this point, I’m ready to kill him with my bare hands. But his face is different. He almost seems...affected.
It is quiet for a moment, and finally my father looks away. “Her parents are looking for her.”
“How do they know where she is?”
“A boy saw you leave the school, and he called them. You’re both lucky I walked in here, and they did not.”
“Thor,” I hissed running my hands through my hair, “I am going to kill him the next time I see him.”
My father’s laugh mixes with Luciana’s words: “You wouldn’t do that, Sabato.”
My father looks pleased that I want to kill someone. Genuinely pleased with me. I won’t admit it, but it feels good.
Somehow, I don’t want to know what kind of look is in Luciana’s eyes.
“I will follow you back to the school,” my father says as he walks toward the door.
~
Luciana cries through almost an hour of our drive home. I want her to stop, but I don’t know how to make it better. I’m not even sure what is wrong.
“Talk to me. Luciana.”
“They’re going to hate me.” She sobs into her hands. “I’m a total disappointment. They’ll make me leave school...they won’t ever let me see you again. I love you, Sabato, but I don’t want—”
“I won’t let that happen.” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to.
“How can you stop it? What are you going to do? Kill them?” She laughs nervously, a tight, hysterical burst.
My answer is absolute calm by comparison. “If that’s what you want, then yes.”
Her jaw drops, and she stops crying. “Of course not!”
I nod. “Okay. Then I will tell them we plan to get married, after graduation. That I am insane with love for you, and that you feel the same. I will also tell them that nothing can stop it, because we are both of legal age.”
Luciana bites her lip. “I really...I just wish.... I want them to love you, Sabato, as much as I love you. No matter what, they’re my family. I’ll always love them, and want them in my life.”
I try to imagine what it might feel like to be a part of something like that. To have people in my life who would still love me, even if they didn’t support my choices. But the very concept is foreign to me.
“Do you...love them more than me?” I know asking makes me sound like a jealous asshole, but I can’t help it.
She pauses, chewing on her lip, for several momen
ts. “Much differently than the way I love you.” She squeezes my hand. “I think you might even love your father, in your own way. Just as he loves you, in his own way.”
I snort, loudly. “He doesn’t love me. He never has. But I don’t care about him anymore, because I have you.”
She doesn’t answer, but she does let go of my hand.
“I have you, Luciana....Right?”
To her, I know I must seem so desperate for her love, almost pathetic. In reality, that’s exactly what I am.
At that moment, a car swerves in front of me, and I have to brake hard to keep from running into the back of it. I swear a black streak through gritted teeth, but my reflexes are good, and we avoid incident. After another moment of road rage on my part, I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I pull over to the side of the road, and put the car in park. Luciana looks away from me, out the window, toward the sea.
“Do you remember that first time, by the water?”
I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. My hands are shaking, and my heart is pounding. I take a deep breath, and try to focus on her words.
“I said you were beautiful, but I never really told you what I meant. I’d been watching you for a whole year, so beautiful, but always alone. At first, I remember thinking, ‘I wish I could be like him, not needing anyone, or caring what anyone thinks.’ You were like...some hero in a fairy tale. So strong and brave, but also aloof, unattainable.” Her hand finds mine again, fingers lacing together. “Now, you’ve become so much more to me than that little girl’s fantasy could ever be. I don’t just want to be a part of your life, I want to share all of it. The good and the bad, everything. Even the things you’re most ashamed of. Please. I know you still hurt inside, after what happened, but if you let me...if you let me, I promise to fill your heart so full with love, that there is no more room in it for hate.”
I want to laugh, because what she said sounds so ridiculous, but tears prickle at the corners of my eyes instead.
“Is that...is that truly what you want, Luciana? You want me to let it go? Forget about all the terrible shit that happened, and just...what? Be happy?”
She pretends not to notice my sarcasm. Or maybe she’s not pretending. She smiles, nodding.
“It’s my deepest desire.”
Her smile cuts through me like a knife, severing those angry red ties that hold me to my hate. In that moment, I feel lighter, more free than I ever have.
“Well.” I clear my throat, to get rid of a sudden thickness, “then how can I possibly deny you?”
“You can’t,” she says, matter-of-factly, “because you love me.”
“I know,” I tell her, and I do. There’s nothing in the world I know more.
I turn to her, pulling her to me by our linked hands. I never want to let go of her again. She is not just the woman I love, but also the one thing I’ve been searching for my entire life: Luciana is my family now. My real family.
Our eyes meet, and gravity takes over. We lean together, lips poised for a tender kiss. I can feel her breath against my skin, her slight gasp of suspense.
That’s when the second car comes.
Or maybe it’s the same one from before, I don’t know. Because I don’t actually see it. But Luciana does, and her gasp turns into a scream, a single heartbeat before the car rams into us.
A sickening crunch, and a lurch, and suddenly we’re flying through the air. I can see the sky, gray and molten, wrestling with the sea. Then they’re too close, and I can’t tell them apart anymore.
I don’t remember hitting the water. Just that gray sky-sea combination, then darkness. The last thing I remember hearing is Luciana, screaming my name. Then nothing.
The last thing I remember feeling, is hope. Then fear. Then despair.
Then, nothing.
### The End ###
Coming April 5th, 2015
SABATO
(Unedited and subject to change)
Chapter one
Nobody’s Eroe
May 27th
(Age 27)
I prowl around the club in Florence. I need a release. Something warm to tease, taunt, titillate, tame, and tear up. It is not only the lifestyle I portray, it is truly who I am. It has never been my MO to waste time chatting up some romance novel junkie, saying all the things I know she wants to hear to get laid.
That is why I came here. It’s not one of my places. I won’t lose the respect of my girls, or my clients.
Tonight, I seek strange.
I’ve come to exactly the right kind of place. I know this because I planned it. I plan everything. I take in the leather clad wait staff with piercings and tattoos—some of whom are holding whips—this is a no-last-name kind of scene. All fetishes are welcome here. My eye catches on a tall redhead with a nose ring that’s chained to her nipple ring—totally exposed, for all to see.
Make that welcome, wet, and waiting.
Nothing good happens on today’s date. Hell, nothing good ever happens these days, aside from orgasms and creating desire. If not for causing the slow buildup to release, and the inevitable double-edged climax, I would feel nothing. But then, usually I like feeling nothing. For too many years, I felt too much. Rage, sadness, jealousy, obsession¸ more rage...it was fucking exhausting, caring that much.
Nowadays, I’m a shark, coldly calculating without allowing anything to touch me on a personal level. Ironically, this seems to make me irresistible to the opposite sex. It also makes me notice things that most people are too nervous, too excited, too full of desire, or scared to notice.
In one corner of the club, there’s a man . He is tall, dark hair, dark eyes. He’s physically appealing but his facial expression gives him away as a first-timer to the BDSM scene. The way his eyes flit from side to side, it’s as if he’s trying to figure out how he got here, and what the hell is going on. I follow his gaze, more slowly and casually, expecting someone who works here to greet him, at least help the poor bastard feel welcome. But no one does.
As a businessman, it bothers me. But as an anonymous club patron—which I am tonight, I remind myself—I could give less of a fuck.
I saunter over to the bar, sit down, and order a drink. Manhattan, with rye whiskey—the only kind of Manhattan that counts. When my drink is in my hand, I turn and continue scouting the crowd for talent.
The majority have not picked their poison yet, and the ones who have are clearly all about being dominated. It seems like the place is crawling with prey, but not so many hunters. Good, I like those odds.
The ‘out of his scene’ guy comes up to the bar and sits right next to me. He orders a glass of wine, cheap wine. I almost snort into my drink. Rookie move. Feeling generous, I turn to him and offer my hand. “I’m Sabato, how are you?”
Immediately, his shoulders go up. “Dude, I like pussy. Okay? I’m not sure what the fuck about me screams I’m willing to swing that way, but—”
“It’s definitely the clothes.”
“Excuse me?” His attitude is one I am not accustomed to. But then, after all, this is not one of my usual haunts.
I decide to cut the guy a break, since he’s obviously clueless. “Look around the room.” I gesture vaguely with my drink. “Tell me, what do you see?”
He shakes his head, looking confused. “Pussy.” He snorts, shooting me a glare. “And a bunch of guys who want to tag my ass.”
My patience is very quickly running out. “And what else?”
He shakes his head again, more loosely this time. The wine must be getting to him already. What a light weight.
“Honestly man, I feel like any second, half of these guys are gonna bust out doing the fucking YMCA. I mean....” He gestures agitatedly around the room. “You got the cowboys, the cops, the gay bikers—fuck, we’re just missing the Indians in here.”
I almost want to laugh, because he is right. “And if they see you checking them out, wearing...what you’re wearing...how do you think they will approach you
?”
He shrugs, looking offended again. I signal the bartender to bring him another wine, before he really gets his skirt in a twist.
“What the hell is wrong with my clothes?”
“Nothing,” I tell him. “If you’re going to a different kind of club.” I gesture to his shiny, black silk shirt. “I mean, you have on your dancing shoes,” I can’t hold back a mocking smirk, “that match your cute little dancing shirt.”
“Fuck you, dude.” His eyebrows push together, and he stares at me for a few seconds like he’s seriously thinking about kicking my ass. Then, slowly, he smiles, shakes his head and holds his hand out for me to shake. “Zandor Steel.”
I take his hand and shake it. I like a man who doesn’t take himself too seriously.
“So, what brings you here tonight, Zandor?”
He shrugs. “Just thought I’d wander in. I’m not from around here, so....”
My eyes widen in mock surprise. “Really?”
“Fuck you twice,” he laughs.
“Yeah, see,” I make a tsk-ing noise, “you can’t say that kind of thing in here, or one of these guys will take you up on it.”
“Oh,” he nods. “Good point. I meant ‘Go fuck yourself, twice.”
I find myself laughing, too, in spite of what day it is. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how refreshing it is to have people tell you to fuck off to your face. Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, I take out my phone and send a quick, subtle text to have this Zandor Steel looked into.
When I look up I see him staring at me, appraising me with a certain shark-like look to him. My shoulders straighten. I shouldn’t have let my guard down so easily.
“I don’t know if I should be taking your advice, bro,” he says. “Doesn’t look like you’re any closer to slaying poon tonight than I am.”
I like the ease of this conversation, but I don’t like the innuendo. I nod to a petite platinum blonde woman who sits across the room, waiting for notice. In a blink she is at my side. I nod toward the floor, and she drops to her knees in front of me, ready to service my every wish—in the middle of the club—if I ask.
